Weakness
by Cr8zeCorbinFangirl
Summary: Jessie can't stand it anymore. She needs to leave. CHARACTER DEATH. R


Jesse slammed her door shut. The block of 5 inch thick wood drowned, somewhat, the nagging voice of her unappreciative mother. Just another thing gone wrong in her horrible, horrible life. That just topped it all. Her grades were gone, her friends had no time for her anymore, and now that her father left, her mother saw that anything and everything Jesse did was not enought. What was there to live for anymore? Sooner or later, she would have no friends, no grades, nothing. Just the need to breath.

She remembered her time before exams. The time she relied heavily on ehr pills. She remembered how close she came to the end. It had felt...like happiness. The happiness that had left her. Maybe...yes. That would work. Ten, no, the entire bottle. Her happiness would come and never leave her again.

But she would. Jesse laid down in her bed, staring dully at her ceiling. Did she really want to die? She was only seventeen; she had oppurtunity infront of her. Did she really want to destroy all that because of her fall? She contemplated her options. If she stayed, there was a 50 chance that her life would go back to normal. If she left, never again would a tear fall from her eyes. Never again would she feel sad.

Sighing, she looked around her. She had arrived, by some force, in her bathroom. Her hand held a bottle. She turned it over, her nails tapping cautiously across the plastic. Caffine Pills She looked across the mirror. She saw everything that went wrong. Her friends, drifting slowly away. Her mother, yelling at her for everything and anything. Her father, vanishing from her memory. Her secret love, never knowing who she was.

_CLIP!_

She looked back to her hand. The palm held small, white capsules bouncing in her quivering hand. She thought about it, too much. She nodded, slowly placing the pills back in the bottle.

* * *

Slater stood, his eyes cast to the lushious green he stood on. Jesse always loved the spring. He turned to the others. Zack wasn't there. It was as expected. Drowning out the memory of the frizzy-haired, brainiac, beautiful girl in the body of a naive seventeen-year-old girl. Slater wanted to find the blond and crush his skull. Make him feel the pain that she had felt. What he felt.

He hadn't noticed, bit it was finally his turn. He turned ever so slightly. He looked at her. Her leotard clung to her body, a pair of sweats over her legs. Her untamed hair swept around her, each curl taking it's own place. Her make-up went unnoticed, except to him. He always noticed when she wore make-up. His hand crept up to the side, covering hers. It was ungodly cold; ice. It didn't suit her. She was a goddess of light and warmth. She shouldn't be this cold. This pale. God, how he hated himself. How he hated himeself for not saving her in her time of ened. How he would miss her laugh, her smile, her knowing of everything, her rants on how much she hated her curls. A tear streamed down his cheek, but he furiously wiped it away. He walked away, sitting at the front beside his weeping friends.

As the person, he couldn't tell who, began to speak, he zoned out, thinking. He tried random thoughts, anything to keep his mind off of today. But every thought connected back. It just couldn't work. He stood up hastily, making his way to the bathroom.

* * *

Slater leaned against the sink for who knows how long, staring at himself. He finally let the tears, stream down. His eyes were swollen, red instead of white. _Albert, don't cry. _He heard her voice. She would say that, he knew. If only she could. Now, she would never speak another word again.

The automatic sink began to turn on. He clenched his fists at thethought of her again and her nevers. He splashed at the water in fury, cursing repeatedly in Spanish. When the water was gone, his fury was not. He kicked the wall. Nothing. He punched at the bricks, feeling his knuckles break with every pound. When he could punch no longer, he slid down the wall, softly knocking the back of his against the wall.

That's when it finally sunk in. She was really gone. She wasn't on vacation. She was really gone, never to return.

His tears strengthened, forcing his to bury his eyes in his arms that crossed over his knees.

* * *

The people quietly walked around the crowded room. Here, people talked small, voices just above a hushed whisper. Slater sat in the corner, a fragile glass of clear grape juice between his fingers.

"Albert?"

Slater ground his teeth. "Don't call me that. Call me A.C." Only she could call him that. He looked up to the woman.

"A.C...I found this in Jessica's room today. It had your name on it." She held in puppy pink painted nails a baige envelope.

"Thank You."

She walked away, leaving Slater and the letter. Slowly, the mexican boy walked out of the room. He walked to his car, locking the door to silence. As if time transformed to slow motion, he opened the envelope. Taking out the letter, carefully he unfolded it.

_Dear Slater,_

_What's there to say? I don't really know what to write. So, I guess I'll just get to the point. I Love You. And I'm sorry that you'll never be able to hear me say it. I know I'm going to die tonight and you can't stop me. Remember when I had those pills. Well, I kind of got them from my mom. She put them in every bathroom in case she came home...drunk. That's right, my mom is an alchoholic. But that's not the point. I had walked into the bathroom and got them out. I don't know how, but they got in my hand. I want you to know that I'm going to die in peace and that'll you'll be in my thoughts. I Love You, Slater. I Love You, I Love You, I Love You._

_Even that I'm gone, you have to promise me something. You can't follow me. Not until it's your time. I will wait for you, but you have to live each day. I want you to live a full life, have a beautiful wife, and get a lot of kids. And then, when you die an old man in his bed, I'll be the first one to greet you in heaven._

_I Love You, Albert Clifford Slater._

_Jessie._

Slater closed the letter, the blotched ink from his softly and slowly running tears sinking through. He bit his quivering lip, anger told in his eyes. Anger that he could never tell how she felt. Anger at Jessie for leaving him without a goodbye. Anger that he could not follow her. He placed the envelope and letter upon the dash, trying to maintain his strength and pride.

It didn't last long.

He folded his arms over the steering wheel, hiding his face over her arms. His shoulders began to bob and his voice began to crack. The tears intensified as he finally allowed himself to sob.

There was one little thing that his beloved Jessica had never quite grasped. It was that he loved her with all his heart and that made her his weakness.


End file.
